


Divine Intermission

by Hope



Category: Lord of the Rings RPF, lotrips
Genre: AU, Crack, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-11-17
Updated: 2003-11-17
Packaged: 2017-10-02 13:28:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hope/pseuds/Hope
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>A mathom fic.</p><p>my original plan for this was to make it into liek, a sitcom-type series. with many madcap adventures!  maybe it will happen. maybe not. there is some potential there, anyway.  consider this a pilot episode. it has been lounging on my hard drive for many months, now.</p><p>Somewhere around here there is fanart for this story by slipstream...</p>
    </blockquote>





	Divine Intermission

**Author's Note:**

> A mathom fic.
> 
> my original plan for this was to make it into liek, a sitcom-type series. with many madcap adventures! maybe it will happen. maybe not. there is some potential there, anyway. consider this a pilot episode. it has been lounging on my hard drive for many months, now.
> 
> Somewhere around here there is fanart for this story by slipstream...

Dominic sighed, fumbling over greasy cushions for another handful of crisps, not taking his eyes off the television.

He'd tried, honest he had - but he just wasn't cut out to make rubber burgers all day, or wear those quaint little hats. Was it his fault that people didn't take him seriously when he asked if the wanted 'fries with that?'

And was it his fault that he felt more inclined to play soccer along the long, perfectly polished aisles than _stack_ the toilet paper? Was it his fault that it got too bloody hot in that giant duck suit? Who could blame him for stripping it off?

It was, he thought miserably with a self-pitying belch, entirely unfair to fire him, as the car yard must have _doubled_ their business that day. Well, visitors. Even if at least two thirds of them were coming in to use the phone to call the authorities, due to some people not watching the road as they were driving.

"Feel the flow of positive energy," Oprah told him earnestly, and he rubbed his chest absently, rucked-up tee-shirt dotted with oily yellow crisp-crumbs. He eyed the remote, a finger-width too far away on the coffee table. He sighed again. "When I realised what my little Danny was actually _doing_ on the internet--" a blonde, teary woman sitting by Oprah on a designer couch said, "--I was _devastated!_" Blonde, teary and quite _buxom_, thankyouverymuch; and Dom tilted his head and rested his heel on the coffee table, months-old TV guides and empty beer cans falling off as he did so; watching the woman lean into her hanky.

Oprah nodded solemnly and Dom enjoyed the camera close-up on the huge screen behind them, taking another swig of beer and sliding his free hand down the front of his joggers.

The show faded out to a shot of middle-aged women in the audience cheering, plump, saggy faces replaced with emaciated ones with huge eyes and Dom groaned.

"Don't you hate that?"

Dom choked on his beer, less of an amber spray and more like a foamy dribble down his chin. He whipped his hand out of his pants and turned around. The fuck?

_"Twenty million children die every year in Africa,"_ the concerned, American voice on the television told him.

"Who the fuck are you?" Dom asked, sounding more flabbergasted than outraged, and the young man vaulted over the back of the couch to settle down beside him.

_"But you _can_ make a difference. By just a dollar a day…"_

"I'm your guardian angel, Dommie," he grinned, gap-toothed, and Dom swallowed. Well he certainly _looked_ angelic. Kind of. Like an innocent little kid with the skin and the eyes, but the hair? Dark and off every which-way, not exactly golden ringlets. Dom watched, wide-eyed and silent, as he shoved a handful of chips in his mouth, then turned to Dom and grinned again.

_"Call now. By changing the life of just one child, you're saving a whole community."_

"Welcome back, and today we're talking about moral decisions parents make every day…"

"She's a bit of alright, isn't she?"

Dom glanced at the watery-eyed blonde for a moment, then back at the 'angel' who was… leering at the screen.

"Am I going to die?" Dom asked a little shakily, and the young man picked at his teeth.

"Uhuh."

"What!" Dom clutched at his heart. "How? Why? Of what?" Oh god, was he even wearing clean underwear? Probably not.

The 'angel' shrugged. "Dunno," he said dismissively. "You all do eventually. Why does it matter?"

"I'd like a bit of warning!" he paused. The studio audience applauded. "Isn't that why you're here?"

The young man shrugged and Dom gaped at him, at a loss for words and his heart still pounding at his near-death experience. "The trick is to always be in control," Oprah said sagely, and the door burst open.

"Elijah!" a rather incensed Scottish voice exclaimed. "Whatareyou_doing_here?"

Dom blinked. There was now a kilted man with a receding hairline and a tan jacket standing in his doorway, sun shining in behind him. _Ugh_, his eyes protested. _Natural light_. . .

The young man with the cherubic face sprang up from the couch. "I could ask you the same thing!" He exclaimed, then struck a rather noble pose, legs planted firm, shoulders thrown back, pointed finger levelled ominously at the new arrival; the effect not entirely ruined by the crisp stuck to his jean-clad arse. "Get thee hence, spawn of Satan!"

"What? I-- oh, not again." The Scotsman sighed, walking straight past the young man's -- Elijah's -- Finger of Doom to turn off the TV. The he turned around, hands on hips, and surveyed the wreckage that was Dom's living room. He sighed.

Dom blinked again. "Who the fuck are you?"

"He's the--!" Elijah began, but was halted by an upraised hand and another sigh. Elijah dropped back down to the couch.

"I'm Billy," the man provided. "Your guardian angel."

"Are not," Elijah said, crossing his arms sullenly. Dom looked from one to the other.

"I am _too_!"

"Are not!"

"Am-- oh, for crying out loud." Billy lifted a hand to his forehead and gave a long-suffering sigh.

"Am I going to die?" Dom asked to no-one in particular, that familiar feeling of 'oh god am I wearing clean underwear?' rising again in his chest.

"No," Billy said, turning to him momentarily then back to the other man. "Elijah, why do you--"

"Then why are you here?" Dom asked again, somewhat bewildered, and then: "Who the fuck _are_ you? Is this some kind of joke? Am I on candid camera?" He missed Oprah. She'd know what was going on.

"No, Dommie," Elijah said earnestly, turning to him and taking one of Dom's crisp-greasy hands, pressing it between his own. "It's no joke. I'm here to help you. You mustn't listen to Billy, he's --"

"I am _not_!" Billy exclaimed, stamping his foot. "_He_ is!" Billy's Finger of Doom was slightly more impressive, but the kilt took away from the effect somewhat.

Dom frowned. "Ok, if you guys are angels--"

"_I'm_ the angel," Billy and Elijah said in unison, then glared at each other.

"-- Then where are your wings?"

Billy cleared his throat, sliding the suede jacket off his shoulders with feigned nonchalance. Elijah rolled his eyes, crossing his legs out in front of him and patting his open mouth in an exaggerated yawn. Dom gaped. Long slits in the back of Billy's white shirt revealed wings; white and huddled against his back. As Dom watched, the wings unfolded and spread out behind Billy, a glow of gold from somewhere behind his head not quite masking the smug grin. Had Dom left the lamp on? He tried to peer around Billy.

"Yeah, well," Elijah said loudly, drawing Dom's attention to him as he stood. Dom's jaw dropped as huge wings unfurled behind Elijah, glittering bright white and silver and gold.

Billy sighed, feathers shaking a little as he walked over to where Elijah stood and went as if to touch the wings -- his hands moved right through them.

"Fine," Elijah pouted, and the wings abruptly disappeared. "Spoil my fun, then."

Billy plucked the silver band that had appeared with the wings from Elijah's forehead, examining it closely. "What is this, tinfoil?" He peeled a strip of the silver off.

Elijah snatched it from him, stomping back to the couch and slumping down again, digging behind the cushions before sullenly popping a rather lint-covered Malteser in his mouth.

Billy shook his head, turned back to Dom. "Get it now?" Dom stared at him blankly and Billy rolled his eyes, muttering something and glancing heavenwards. The wings shook irritably and he shrugged his jacket back over them as they folded up again. "Me - angel. He - devil. Understand?" He unwrapped Dom's fingers from where they still clutched the beer can and brought both of his hands to Elijah's head, burying them in Elijah's hair. "See? Horns."

Elijah tossed his head a little irritably, but allowed the tentative probing; somewhere in the tousled mess Dom's fingers hit at two rather blunt protuberances; cone-like but worn smooth, like a young ram's.

"I have a tail, too," Elijah leered, and Dom snatched his hands away. "Wanna see?" He went to stand again and Dom protested hastily.

"No, it's quite alright … I, er, believe you."

Elijah shrugged, slumped back into the couch. The remote skittered through the debris of the coffee table and into his open hand, the television screen blinking to life again, and... Huh. Dom was _sure_ there was no soft-core porn scheduled in the TV guide today. Or -- Elijah flipped stations -- home shopping for Royal Doulton figurines. _Very_ sure.

"Give me that--!" There was a brief tussle, Billy pointed the remote commandingly at the television, and... Nothing. Billy frowned. The taloned host was presenting to the Home Viewers a 2"x4" figurine of a teddy bear whose face was in a what appeared to be a rictus of pain. With balloons. Billy pressed the button on the remote more commandingly. Vigorously. Violently.

"It's no use, you know." Elijah was picking his teeth - not pointed, Dom was relieved to notice - with a stumpy excuse for a fingernail. That, er, grew into a claw as he watched. Elijah lowered his hand, licked his lips. "I get TV, you get PCs, remember?"

Billy frowned. "That doesn't seem right..."

"Un-hunh." Elijah took another handful of crisps from the now-full bowl, stuffed them into his mouth. "Because I get Macs."

"Ah. Yes. Well... At least put something different on!" Billy grimaced at the 1924 Pony Mint being displayed. Complete With Parasol. Elijah gestured lazily in the direction of the set, and the theme music for 'Touched By An Angel' chimed in. Billy shuddered.

Dom blinked, his gaze flickering from the solemnly pacing Billy moulting all over his carpet, to the crisp-covered vintage-t-shirted Elijah on sprawled on the couch. "Um." Neither of them looked up. Billy was sneaking glances at the television, Elijah had somehow gotten hold of a Diet Coke, though Dom knew that the only type of beverage gracing the inside of his fridge was the dregs of a month-old carton of full-cream milk. "What are you guys here for, then?" Still no response. "If I'm not. Going to die. That is." Maybe he'd just gone simply and utterly insane. Maybe he could sell his story to Oprah.

"We're here to like--" Elijah gestured randomly with the remote as an ad break -- ostensibly for 'The AbTronicToner' -- rolled in. "--Guide you. In your daily life."

"My life decisions?" So far Dom had avoided most Life Decisions. He was quite proud of the fact that he'd made it thus far. Twenty-seven years and no achievements to speak of - surely that was an accomplishment in itself.

"More like..." Billy waved his hands in what could be interpreted as a meaningful pattern.

"...What you're going to have for breakfast," Elijah completed. Dom blinked.

"See, you're kind of like a practice run for us."

"Practice run?"

"Yeah. Like, part of our training."

"You're a _trainee_ angel?!"

"He flunked his first round," Elijah smirked, and Billy shot him a rather unsubtle 'look', white feathers puffing up indignantly.

"Oh, and you didn't?" Billy retorted, and Elijah shoved another handful of crisps in his mouth before opening it again to reply, but Dom cut him off:

"But why me?"

The two divine beings exchanged glances; Elijah shrugged, Billy perched on the edge of the couch and avoided Dom's questioning gaze, wings lifted primly to avoid the ends of the feathers touching the greasy cushions.

"Twenty-seven years and no achievements to speak of," Elijah mumbled around a mouthful of deep fried potato. "Not much for us to mess up, is there?"

Dom swallowed.

**Author's Note:**

> http://hopeful-fiction.livejournal.com/14694.html


End file.
